RANCHO GUERRERO

Gadzooks! We've got zukes! These are our two (yes, only two!) zucchini plants! We just started harvesting a couple of days ago. How or why the gophers didn't take them out is beyond me but I'm exceedingly glad that they didn't! They did get more than half of the tomato plants (about ten) and most of my potato crop. The potatoes were a lark anyway and an experiment to see what would happen if I planted them instead of just tossing them in                                                                          the compost pile (they started                                                                                    sprouting).                                                                                         

Once in awhile, things can happen that can blow your ever lovin' mind. I was at the back end of the barn at the corner and picked up a coil of wire. The barn door was open (at an angle) since I had been going in and out all morning. Without so much as a thought, I tossed the coil of (useful) wire up toward the front so I could take it inside and park it with my wire collection in there. It hit the door and slid in behind one of the vertical brace bars! 

I may just leave it there in case I need to be 

amazed at some point in the future. 

Well….it’s August and it’s a “no frost” zone….again.  Doesn’t that just freezer burn your leftover turkey? I’d rather wrestle Darth Vader for his helmet than endure another blistering summer. At least we’re not dealing with a drought attack….so far.

Rancho Report: things are moving along here at the homestead. Not a lot other than a bunch of things have happened since the previous report.

For instance, “Muley”, the big 26 hp Craftsman lawn and garden tractor, decided to throw a shoe. The PTO clutch up and quite in the middle of very good mow job being performed by the Ol’ Rancher. Imagine the look on the guy’s face when, in the middle of a very deep cut of grass in the front yard (and only half done), the clutch up and let go! The blades stopped spinning and no grass was being mown. No, the mild mannered rancher didn’t curse the thing. But, it didn’t get invited to the next BBQ either. 

We have options (and options are our friends); the rig will be taken down to “Porterville Agri-Home” for a good fixin’ along with the “Troy Bilt” 4.5 hp power pressure washer that hates me and won’t start. I need that big baby to be able to reach higher places that my other lower powered washer can’t get to. 

UPDATE: I did look under the mower while I was loading it onto the trailer. It appears that there is a dead rabbit stuck in the belts (is this not the place where things get “interesting"? ). So, it may not be the PTO clutch after all. 

Not long ago (when lots of things happen around here), I shot a wabbit because they were starting to proliferate at an alarming rate (who woulda thunk?). I gave the wabbit to Abbie since she has been so faithful and could surely use a nice dead wabbit for purposes of her chosing. Apparently, she chose to eat part of it and haul the remainder to front yard where it immediately got lost in the tall grass. Can you see where this is heading? 

So, I still took the tractor down to Agri-Home to get my mower to mow again. I can actually fix the thing but I can’t get under it or park it high enough to get under it; it's twice the weight of the previous mower and I'm not about to attempt to set a "dead lift" record for old people. They have a nice ramp and lift to work with.

By the way, these folks know their stuff and provide excellent service. I went to high school with the GM’s brother so we get along fabulously. I figure another trip or two there and we’ll dang near be related.

Ol’ Swampy is cruising along like a champ. We get the maximum cooling that you can expect from such a creature. If you have an evaporative cooler that has been matched for the task to which it is assigned, there’s about 15 degrees or so of temperature difference between inside and outside air even when the outside air temperature hits the 100 degree mark. We’re getting a solid 20 degrees below OAT.

Coupled with a few fans to stir the air around a bit, we stay comfortable (and you know that comfort is our friend at this ranch!). If it gets too near the hubs of Hell around here, we just switch on “Ol’ Frosty”, the big wattage hungry A/C unit, and tame things back down to a “no sweat level”.  Suffering is not allowed on my watch.

Dear friend and brother, Phil Wasson in Torrance, helped bring Rancho Ran somewhat further into the 21^st century, bless his heart. I trust that you don’t mind me bragging on the caliber of some of my friends, but concerning Brother Phil, I must do so.

He just happens to be one of the sharper tacks in the box and is someone who stays on top of things. My bet is that he’s so well informed that Jeopardy contestants make way for him! That’s not a joke. This man is unreal! It’s not just that he’s a walking encyclopedia. No, sir! He’s the kind of intellect that writes the programming for talking dolls and toys! He is an information sponge the likes that I’ve never seen! When I grow up, I want to be more like him!

On our recent trip to SOCAL, we had the opportunity to stop in and visit with him. What a great event that was! Not only was Phil there, but two other talented intellects, Monte Julian and Michael Laube were there!

While I didn’t know anyone but Phil, Connie knew Michael from decades ago when they attended the same church! What a hoot! Of course, they had a great time of filling in the blanks and chatting about old times. It was a major blast to get to know these men and you can bet that we will do it again.

To make a long story longer, not long ago, Phil had mentioned Amazon’s “Blue Dot Echo” device that was capable of voice recognition and could retrieve a myriad of things from the Internet. Because it was a staple at his home, he felt it would be a real asset at the old folk’s home and that we should have one. Would you believe, I balked at the chance (even though it was on sale and ….sales are my friends)?!

I had read a few things about it and had a few YouTube videos that had “Blue Dot Echo” ads plastered on it. But, though I’m an old “Starfleet Academy” cadet who loves sci-fi, it didn’t quite gel with me. I guess it’s just more comfortable to look up the spot price of silver online than to ask a disembodied voice for an answer. Maybe I’m holding out for a Jedi light sabre. Reckon old people don’t like change.

Anyway, before we departed for home, Phil demonstrated his Echo which blew us away! We even had the next day’s weather forecast for Springville in seconds! The thing was answering questions and gaining access to podcasts and such! Wild! Then, he handed us a spanking new “Amazon Blue Dot Echo”! How awesome is that?! It was time to experiment!

After huggies all around, we departed with the amazing little device. Once home, it was initialized and put to the test. It connected to the home network without any issues. To quote Jackie Gleason….”And, awaaaaay we go!”.

After tinkering with it for a goodly while, I tried some sleep sounds and came up with “Thunderstorms”. That one is now a favorite! At beddy-by time, I call out, “Alexa. Play thunderstorms” and get this wonderful rain storm with thunder in the background. Ahhhhhhhh. How sweet it is (Gleason was just so cool)!

So, that’s the partial story of how I got dragged further into the 21^st century. Another part is when I got a “real” computer in 2000. But, that’s a story for a different post. I may even post how I almost didn’t get dragged out of the 20^th century!

My greatest of thanks to Phil who helped me get out of an unnecessary deep rut! Progress is being made! I may even trade in my flip-phone (the dumb one) for a new smart iPhone or such! Zowie!

The Chickenin’ Report: it’s time for the news from “The Cackle Hatchery” (better known as “The Dirty Bird Factory”) and there are some updates.

In the last issue, a big healthy-but-loud-proud-and-aggressive “blue Polish crested” rooster became part of the herd of beaks. His former name was unacceptable (I mean, who wants a rooster named “Steven Tyler”?) so we started trolling for names.

The winner was none other than Connie’s daughter, Brandi Peterson, who has sense enough to live in Washington State (I’ve lived there so I know whereof I speak). After learning about our chicken crisis of sorts, she suggested that the feisty little big guy should be given the moniker, “Cluck Norris”. There was no way I could disagree. So, “Cluck Norris”, it is.

Cluck had to sit a spell in a quarantine coop for a week or so prior to us allowing him to run with the other birds. It usually takes at least that long for a chicken to forget where he came from and get acclimated to the new digs. It helped having four hens to watch over, too. What rooster worth his scratch will up and abandon a harem of hens? He took to his appointed task with all alacrity and even followed them into the coop that night. He hasn’t missed a night making it back in.

Of course, he’s still new and getting used to having a big, bad, overweight, middle aged, chicken sitter to contend with. He’s still used to being the supreme authority in charge of the yard. That was about to change.

I have to hand it to our goofy looking fowl. He truly knows his rooster stuff and isn’t afraid to flaunt it. However, he seems to be more into himself than the girls. Ol’ Pedro and Wing Low used to give the girls no rest at all but Cluck just wanders around crowing (he may be related to Warren Beatty). I’m hoping the plot will thicken with this chicken ‘cause I’d love to see what kind of weird offspring he produces. 

Being in a new yard and all, I expected him to be a tad bellicose. I wasn’t disappointed. When I made my appearance in the back yard to attend the garden boxes, the rowdy rooster charged me within a couple of minutes. Though this critter is Polish, you would think that he was Japanese. He came at me like a Kamikaze pilot! Thankfully, I was armed with some heft and know how to use it.

Now, let it be known that I ain’t afeared of no critter that’s only about 1/37^th of my fightin’ weight. I was more afraid of hurting myself laughing than being attacked by a large ego encased in a bundle of feathers.

But, oh, what he show he gave! It was great! He ran full apace straight into my outstretched foot. Boom! No score! That caused him to hurl himself back into the air and flail around because there was nothing really to hit.

First rule of warfare: never underestimate your foe. Uh, what happens to you if you are 225 pounds of over confidence engaged in battle and think that you are invincible? Right. You get whacked! The little cluck with lots of pluck wouldn’t give up and made a mad dash for a “close in” fight. I did, after all, have a three foot reach on the little feather bin. There were no options for him; he had to come in tight. He deftly and swiftly dodged my imposing outstretched foot and launched himself against my other leg.

Surely, everyone knows about “cockfights” and how roosters have large….think “really big”….spurs on their legs with which to gore an opponent. The miniature Samurai thrust his swords at my leg and drew first blood! Second rule of warfare: don’t wear shorts in combat (especially a cockfight). *SIGH*. I had to hand it to the little guy. He was a worthy opponent. There isn’t another time that I can recall giggling while losing blood.

Thankfully, I wasn’t much concerned about the wounds. I’ve been hurt worse opening a can of tuna. The scratches would add to the long list of “character marks” I had accrued through my decades of life on planet Earth. I’m sure that the blood loss wasn't sufficient enough to even stain old aunt Freda’s fresh Sunday hanky.

Still, this wasn’t a fair fight by any stretch of the imagination (not that you could tell the proud shaggy-headed strutter that….the chicken, not me). After a few times of losing (now that his opponent was paying attention), Cluck settled down and realized that I won the first round and gave up the fight. He marched off in a huff and far from being ready to sign a peace treaty.

After a few more brief rounds of losing (including a couple of sneak attacks from the rear…no dummy, that bird), our newly incorporated fowl now knows who the stud duck at the ranch is. He is minding his P’s and Q’s and no longer attacks the huge opponent. But, I don’t show off by deliberately provoking him or purposely invading his crowing space.  

Connie the Canner is not his friend and is still a bit uncomfortable with him and doesn’t trust him. She is considering packing heat with her when she goes outside (think BB gun). She is (rightly) concerned that, though he knows that I’m the boss, he may attack someone else. So, his mugshot is on “Craig’s List” and he will be going to a new home for the more-than-reasonable price of 20 bucks (which will buy us at least two non-combative pullets).

Princess Abbie Report: the “snout with no doubt” is faithfully executing her duties around here. She hasn’t performed a significant capture or kill lately but that doesn’t mean that she isn’t paying attention. The corner reefer has been treed a couple of times but nothing came of it. I’m not sure why since her abilities are nonpareil and there’s no snot in that snout. Oh, well. Mysteries abound at this ranch.

There you have it: another episode of what’s happening at Rancho Relaxo, home of Rancho Ran, the world's foremost authority (the previous one died), Connie the Canner (world's greatest side-cook): where the air smells like a giant hot loaf of bread, where things can get…interesting, and where… you just never know.

Rancho Huevos Minimos

A long time ago, when Connie the Canner was in college, she suffered major injuries in a car accident. Because of the pelvic injury, and at this stage of life, having an elevated toilet seat allows for less stress on her airframe. So, we found this most excellent seat riser at a ...yep...yard sale. And, just look at those handles! You can get down to serious business with this thing! You just hang on and git with the program! If the going gets                                                                      tough, you just pull harder and it's an                                                                        ejection seat! This baby will set you                                                                        free!  For 5 bucks, it was a steal! "On the throne again....I just can't wait to get on the throne again......".

Here are some of the flowers in the rail-straddling boxes on our patio. It's really nice to burn a steak under such conditions. Ol' Smokey is just off to the left at the other end. Connie loves her flowers and you can see it here.

Another shot of a pot of petunias. You can see garden boxes two and four (furthest) way in the background. The obligatory LED night light is on hand as is the decorative and functional candle holder lantern. Who knows; we may need a candle powered lantern one of these days.

This is the northeast corner of Henderson and Prospect. This strip mall has seen multiple tenants over the years but all are now gone. It was just leveled a couple of weeks ago and  a single large building will be built  there. See next pic.

This is the lot whose dirt hasn't seen daylight in probably 50 years or more. Guess what is going to be built there? It's going to be a new "Chipotle" restaurant. Just what we need, another Mexican food restaurant. We can throw a rock in just about any direction in Porterville and hit a really good Mexican food restaurant (I mean, REALLY GOOD). So, I'm not sure if we need to dilute the business of our                                                                        hometown establishments.                                                                                    

 Just wanted everyone to know that our local business people are keen on doing a great job and establishing a reputation. Click on the picture for an enlargement.

Ol' Pickin' Dude, Ran, at the "Centennial Park" in Hooterville. We play there a couple of times per year. It's fun and besides, you can get sunburned for free.

The rig normally known as "Coop De Ville and Woolly Pulley". We stopped to take a few pictures while driving home on Frazier Valley Road (aka Strathmore Road).

Looking northward from Frazier Valley Road. Have I mentioned that I love halo shots?

Our humble local lake, "Success Lake". The weather has allowed some usage but is still rather cool yet so the lake hasn't seen all that many soggy revelers lately. I suspect that "real" summer temps will soon enough pounce upon us and then the place will be shore-to-shore skin, swimsuits, and speed boats.

"Moon Over the Sierras". I'm selling this magnificent print for 800 bucks per copy (I was going to charge 1,000 but my name isn't all that well known yet). I'm using genuine HP ink cartridges and "JetPrint Photo Premium" paper (from a yard sale) so y'all know that we only use high quality stuff here at "Minnick Studios". The camera was Connie's Nikon "CoolPix" with a bit of zoom                                                                       (almost brand new and 10 bucks                                                                               at a yard sale). We recently raised the
                                                                    limit so you can now purchase as                                                                              many of these as you want.
                                                                    What the heck is an "F stop"?

This funny looking guy (a Polish rooster) is part of our "Rancho Relaxo Chicken Recovery Program". His name is "Steven Tyler" because, presumably, he had a small harem to look after (I know who Steven Tyler is but cannot attest to any such harem). One of the ladies at our bank gave him to us because he was overly protective of his girls and would chase her around if she got near. This being after she had raised the ungrateful bugger from a chick! He's up for a name change but I just haven't decided what it
may be (though, "Mop Top" and "Mad Max" are in the
offing. Suggestions, anyone?). 

This is the northeast corner of Jaye Street and Highway 190. You can see "Home Depot" in the background. This will soon be a new "Aldi's" grocery store. We have patronized the "Aldi's" in Bakersfield and were delighted to see one coming to our little ol' burg. Perhaps we will be a real town some day! If you can't find us at "Grocery Outlet", look for us at                                                                                 "Costco" (Vis.), "WinCo" (Vis.), or                                                                           "Aldi's" (Bak. but soon here). 

Here's the Howden family's spontaneous ad lib troupe, "Take One", in full array (and who are much too talented to allow for a stiff non-animated still shot of themselves). Master mugger, Kuyper Churchman, holds down the center spot while newbie, Warner Phillip, with tongue-assisted professional aplomb, aids in holding his sister's leg . "Sister" is Moira Annaliese who, like the rest of the clan,
is a natural card and who now introduces a vocal element.
There were no rehearsals for this shot.

With all of the amazing abilities that Connie the Canner possesses, the best one is that of being a grandmother, for "grand" she is. Here, she holds still-shiny grandson, Becker Dane, who is transitioning from a nap into a good sleep. Melatonin is our friend.

To the right is a shopping center in Palos Verdes. We could see the marine layer moving in. It was wild to see it slipping silently through the trees, buildings, and between cars!

Somewhere in this complex was where my family lived in 1952. It was a military housing project for post-WW-2 vets (my dad was a vet). When I first saw this complex a few years ago, I immediately recognized it! My mother had talked about the place, too, so there was no doubt as to it being the correct complex. I can still remember watching a wrestling match on our                                                                            10" TV set! The set was large and the
                                                                    small CRT was set horizontally.                                                                                It then reflected off a mirror mounted                                                                      on its closeable lid. Our neighbors                                                                            were the Flintstones.

                      

 Here's Ol' Rancho Ran enjoying the day at the ocean's edge. This is "Point Vincente" in Palos Verde. He isn't waring his sunglasses to be cool or to be mistaken for a movie star; he is wearing them so that the UV rays (which penetrate the cloud cover) don't fry his retinas. No whales were injured during this picture shoot.

Moira is obviously planning to be an ophthalmologist. She's looking deeply into her grandmother's eyes with her binoculars. Connie is only seeing three feet of love.

All the Howden's save one kid who managed to be just too busy to show up for the shoot. Kuyper! Just where the heck are you?

 Point Vincente Lighthouse. The lighthouse isn't leaning; I think the camera man's right tennis shoe was low on air.

Same shot with same cheap camera and without zoom and with the tennis shoe re-inflated.
                                             










It's JULY!! Doesn't that just park your Frizbee on the roof?! One more summer to endure then one more autumn to appreciate when it gets here, I suppose.

Well....it finally happened; we got a....day off! Will wonders never cease?! It's about time! I must admit that having a few days off was most enjoyable. And, it's always great to see the kids and their kids (some of our kids have kids who have kids...no kidding!).

Since chicken sitting isn't a factor for now, we loaded up the Coop de Ville and headed down to Harbor City (think Torrance and Long Beach) for a couple of days to see a brand spanking new grandson! Other than the dummy chief mechanic forgetting to check our coolant level prior to departing, the trip was uneventful. We had to pull over on the Grapevine for a few minutes and let our hoopie cool down. It was just a minor diversion; no biggy. After a short spell, we proceeded without further ado. That was a first of its kind event and, hopefully, it will be the last (maybe I should just fire the doofus mechanic to make sure).

Though it hadn't been all that warm here in the Valley, it was really nice to experience the coastal climate down south. It truly was a "no sweat zone" while we were there. That does help to explain why there are so many people there...but not fully .

I can remember flying down to Long Beach in February some years ago. It was overcast, rainy, and the temperature was about 43 degrees when we departed from KPTV in a twin turbine engine King Air B200 (nice ship, eh, Captain Mark?). Upon arrival at KLGB, we noticed that the folks on the ground were all wearing shorts and T-shirts and basking away in the sunny 78 degree CAVU day! FYI....that's 160 miles as the crow flies and, from wheels up to touchdown, we made the trip in 45 minutes and we didn't encounter any traffic jams on the 405. Fast turbine-powered aircraft are our friends. Go, Beechcraft!

Anyway....it was hugs all around when we got to the Howden's home. We hadn't been down in quite awhile so it was a major event. Connie got to hold the baby, of course, and she relished each moment, to be sure.

After much visiting, it was taco time. The ladies prepared a feast of pulled-pork tacos for all. After even more visiting, we headed over to long-time friend, Cherie's, home where we visited with her awhile then spent the night there.

The next day was another interesting time. After an excellent breakfast (I had to promise Connie not to lick the plate until the flowers were faded), we all headed to "Point Vincente Light House" in Palos Verdes. I hadn't been there prior to this occasion so that was a treat. The weather was most cooperative. There was a nice high overcast with a slight off-shore breeze and the temperature was about 72 degrees or so. Lots of pictures were taken and attempts were made to espy a whale. Though unsuccessful in that endeavor, the trip out there was still great! We all had a good time then headed back to the house for din-din.

The next day, we re-loaded the van and began our trip homeward. At Bakersfield, we stopped at "Aldi's" grocery store. It didn't take long to clean up on their specials and pack them into our cleverly disguised dump truck. Then, we were back on the road again.

Though we had a really good time, it was quite nice to be back at the ranch. After unpacking our stuff, we called it a day. We were "tarred" (that's tired times two). "Click Click....there's no place like home".

Princess Pooch Report: Abbie has been keeping up with her breed's reputation which is to say, she's doing a great job as a "huntin' dawg". The other day (yeah...that one), she treed the far patio fridge again. Usually, that means that there is something hiding behind it that is alive but which desperately needs to be dead.

Now, I'm no fridge hugger but I needed to employ some muscle (that would be the stuff that young people exude and old people don't exude other than in their dreams) to haul the reefer out from the wall so my good dawg could do her good job. After a mighty pull (thankfully, I didn't need my Superman cape....er....apron), the big heavy pile of white metal came screeching away from the wall. Quicker than you can fall off a 6 foot ladder, Abbie was crimping and shaking a big ol' rat in her Buick bumper bending jaws. She quickly strode off into the night with her furry trophy. Rats are not our friends (though dead ones are). Abbie -1; Rat - 0.

Ah, but she was not about to let her guard down. The other day (yep, that one), she treed "Ol' Smokie" on the patio and was baying to beat the band (I have yet to figured out just which band that was). On top of that, I could hear a ground squirrel barking. That meant that the game was afoot. So, all I had to do was to pull the grill away from the wall and....whammo! Abbie scored again! She snatched the fuzzy varmint, shook him about three times, clamped it in her jaws until no bones were left unbroken, and that was that. Abbie - 1 : stupid, stinking, mangy, unwanted, ground squirrel - 0.

Mangy Varmint Report: Sometimes even the Ol' Rancher is in the right place at the right time with the right rifle. Now, I don't remember if it was the other day or if it was not long ago but it seemed like someone should slowly haul his rifle out back to take a look around for brown furry hole-digging offenders. No one else was available so I felt obligated to do it.

Slowly I turned: step by step....and....sure enough! At the edge of the pole barn sat a big ol' fat furry stupid (for sitting still) ground squirrel. Slowly I drew a bead on him and cranked off a round. The brown bane was no more. Ah, but he had a stupider relative with him and the stupider relative wasn't moving very quickly. So, Ol' Dull Shooter Ran drew another bead and, BLAM! Another one bites the nutritionally-deficient and slightly alkaline dust! Shooting from the shoulder is not my forte but I didn't have options. Reckon I got lucky.

The rabbit population is starting to rise and that's not a good thing. So, there are fewer of them around as a result of some careful aiming. I don't much like to shoot wabbits but they're getting way out of control. So, a few of them will need to be pruned. OK....enough drama.

Chickenin' Report: you may think that a rancher with only a few chickens doesn't have much to report but such is not the case. This is "Rancho Relaxo" and there isn't anything normal about this place.

First, here's the skinny on what happened last month. Two of a neighbor's Rottweilers (I now know the difference between a Mastiff and a Rottweiler...that only took 69 years) were let out of their pen by a nasty unscrupulous person (probably a non-neighbor) who must have had something against the dog's owner. They came down to Rancho Relaxo and killed 61 of our birds (and perhaps a few more since another neighbor saw one of the dogs trotting off with a chicken dinner in its mouth).

The dog owner neighbor was located and contacted the next day by another neighbor. That was...interesting....because Connie  knew that neighbor (Walt) quite well because he worked in EMS and had taken Connie's dad to the hospital on certain occasions ten years ago.

Thankfully, the Animal Control officer was most diligent in his efforts to solve the case. He did his foot work and located the known neighbor (Walt) about 1/4 mile from us who knew the dogs' owner. Get this...not only did he locate him, the officer actually knew him (Walt)!. And, get this, too...Walt, not only knew the dog's owner but he also works for him! Are we talkin' "small planet" here?

Long story longer....the second day, the owner came to our place with Walt to assist. Some of his younger family was also with him to interpret because the man's English wasn't all that great.

There wasn't much to negotiate. We showed him a stack of pictures (one of which was a picture of one of his dogs), the torn apart cage, and he had the AC officer's account of his visual assessment. He advised that he would take care of the matter.

The Ol' Rancher had to track down a chick hatchery in Fresno, make a list of replacement costs for 61 birds, list 6 months of feed cost, cage repair, and also 6 months of egg production loss (which ended up being substantial). Then, the total reimbursement list was submitted. In only a couple of days, we picked up a cashier's check from Walt, the intermediary. Case closed.

At this point, there's no way the rest of the story can't be shared. The Animal Control officer not only new Walt but had a special relationship with him. About ten years ago, the young man was near death after an accident in this area. Walt was one of the first responders and actually got there in time to save the man's life. Is that wild?!

So, what are the two sorta chicken sitters going to do know? Well, we're going to overhaul the chicken coop. It has needed it for some time now. We're already underway with the project and will advance as we can since there are other projects on the "get to" list. That means that we may be able to have more than one day off! Amen to that!

The plan is to order probably 20 or so chicks then wait a couple of months to order another 20. After a couple more months, we'll order 20 or so more. We're staggering them because chickens slow or even cease laying at about 2 1/2 years old and we don't want them all to stop at the same time.

We do need to get the ball rolling while the weather is warm, though. Otherwise, we'll have chickens in the kitchen and Connie the Canner really doesn't want to do that.

By the way, we have four chickens that managed to escape the carnage (though we don't even know how they did that). Two are Rhode Island Reds, one is an Aracauna/Easter Egger, and one is a smaller mixed pullet. We get a couple of eggs per day. That'll work for now.

There you have it: another episode of what's happening at Rancho Relaxo, the home of Rancho Ran, the world's foremost authority (the previous one died), and Connie the Canner, the worlds greatest side cook, and where things can get....interesting....and where....you just never know.

Rancho Cinco Fiestas

This is a courtesy public announcement from Rancho Relaxo. You are most welcomed. 

It’s June! Doesn’t that just make you want to shove a jumbuck into your tuckersack? This year is .3846 percent completed! 

Unseasonal weather has been our lot for the previous few weeks but that is about to change. It’s been very spring-like way until the last week of May. Usually, the third week of May is when we break into the mid-‘90s in this region. That didn’t happen this year so we have been rejoicing with temps in the low and mid ‘80’s for highs and lows of about 55-60 in the mornings. We’ll hit the 100 degree mark on Sunday and that’ll kick off our summer.  

Rancho Report: speaking of tuckersack….it was way past time to build a big ol’ fiesta here at the rancho. How could I know that, during the month of May, Rancho Relaxo would become the “Garden of Eatin”.

It’s been awhile since we tucked some tacos into our taco tote around here. So, we had a huge taco lunch the other day (lots of things happen around here at about that time). We gathered all the goodies and condiments needed, fried and seasoned the hamburger, fried our tortillas (corn and flour), headed to the table, and set to gnashing our way to gastronomical bliss. That was a most satisfying treat and one which will be repeated regularly if this old taco tucker can help it. Fiesta numero uno: in the bag.

Of course, this is California and there is not limit on the number of tacos or other Mexican food you can eat. Sooooooo….a couple of days later, we happened upon a large supply of Anaheim chili peppers (at about 25% of the original price! You should follow us around if want great deals!). Now, just what are a couple of old chicken chasers going to do with a large bag of Anaheim peppers? Anyone who has spent even a short while in California knows where this conversation is heading. What recipe do you suppose calls for big beautiful Anaheim chili peppers? YUP! Chili Rellenos!

Due to our somewhat demanding schedule, the chilis had to wait a few days for us to rescue them from the fridge. When we did…boy howdy! With fiesta numero uno behind us, it was fiesta numero dos time! To quote my old friend, Mr. Worf, “It is a good day to fry”.

Since I had never attempted to prepare homemade chili rellenos, the recipe book had to be cracked. The recipe calls for eggs (of which, amazingly, we just happen to have in abundance), flour, and oil in which to fry the things and was just like I like it: short and sweet; no sweat on this go around. 

Connie the Canner grabbed the big “KitchenAid” mixer and whipped up the egg whites while the Ol’ Ranger mixed up stuff, prepped the chilis by charring then stripping off the skin, and lit up the range (range ...Ranger….heheheh. I crack myself up). Dredge, dip, and fry: repeat; a pretty easy to deal with recipe, if you ask me (have I mentioned that I’m convenience oriented?). In no time, we had a plate full of tasty chili rellenos.

Concurrently, we were finishing up cooking another batch of tacos and tostadas and, this time, added the frijoles refritos (it’s not a fiesta until these mushy babies are on the table).  

As with the previous fiesta, there was more gnashing of teeth and flinging of utensils. It is a certainty that we consumed far too much and were stuffed. That meant only one thing: siesta time! Naps are our friends!

But, wait folks! There’s more! It is written that, “Man does not live by bread alone; he has to have a pot of beans” (the “Book of Third Randy” as I recall). Maybe it was the lingering thought of the tasty refried beans or such: not sure. But, a few days later, it was “bean time” at the rancho. So, out came the smoked ham hocks and the “Power Pressure Cooker” (the big 10 qt one). In a couple of hours, Rancho Relaxo became “Ciudad de Frijole”.

No self-respecting son of an Okie would wade into such a marvelous repast without the equally marvelous side dishes of “fried taters and cornbread” (that would be the southern version and not the Yankee version, don’tcha know). These two side dishes from heaven and a chunk of raw onion were waiting at the table when the beans were ladled up.

It is beyond my ability to formulate words as to just how wonderful this feast was (especially when your mouth is full….and you all know what our mommas said about that). The Ol’ Rancher was in full waddle mode for a spell but it was a small price to pay. It was nothing that a good nap couldn’t cure.

He also had to bear the catastrophic gastric consequences of digesting those big beautiful bowls of musical fruit but it was worth it. Bless his heart, he tries not to pull off such a leguminous feast very often in consideration of dear Connie the Canner (and lest she require him to camp in the barn for a week by himself). She ate a burger and went on about her business leaving the Frijole Dude to deal with the Kentucky windage. Fiesta numero tres completed and two fiestas to go.

It wasn’t long until the utterly gorgeous weather prompted (if not demanded) that we fire up the Ol’ Smokie. We had recently reclaimed the patio for use by humans again (instead of a staging area for home and garden uses and flooded with equipment, tools, varmint poison, yard sale stuff, et. al.). After a lot of hard work, Connie made the place beautiful and it was time to put it and the patio furniture to good use. 

All that was required was to mine the freezer for a chunk of patiently waiting meat. That didn’t take long for this hungry miner to do. In no time, a T-Bone steak and a rack of “Farmer John’s” pork ribs was thawing on the counter.

The ribs came from “Smart and Final” (which is a standard hoot for all the “Spooners” out there). They were (hold on to your big blue bonnet, granny!) 50% off due to the time out date! No reason to eat hamburger when you can do ribs for less, I always say. The steak was a deal, too. It’s just that I don’t recall which deal it was. Deals are our friends!

Ol’ Smokey didn’t let us down. It wasn’t long until we had the gorgeous meat paired with the gorgeous afternoon. And, it didn’t take all that long for the baked potatoes and sides to show up, either. Man! Needless to say, we tore into our feast with all available shovels and pick axes (well…I did. When it comes to food, Connie really isn’t much into being a miner)! The food was so good that I was tempted to just turn the ranch into a new restaurant: “The Steer and Sty”. Sorta has a nice ring to it, eh? Fiesta numero quatro is a done deal.

At the end of each month, our church has big ol’ potluck. This time, one of our ladies is moving out of state and had requested that someone bring cornbread and beans. It didn’t take the bean dude long to volunteer for that gig! Glad to oblige!

I whipped out the “Power Pressure Cooker” again and replicated the previous pot of beans and ham hocks but added some bacon to boot. Connie baked up the luscious cornbread. When you add all of the other main dishes and sides at the potluck, you ended up with a genuine food fest from which no one could possibly walk away hungry. Fiesta numero cinco wrapped up.

Chickenin’ Report (or: Tales of Chicken Wallow Hollow): when you deal with chickens, you just never know. The other day (you remember the one), you know who forgot to keep the coop door open so the chickens could come home to roost. Some of the hens needed to be kept in the coop so they could continue to do their part in the production of eggs and help carry the freight around here. So, when the old ranchers came home from church, things got…interesting.

All was well until Connie the Canner reminded me that I hadn’t locked up the hen house yet. That was at about ten minutes to midnight: *SIGH* number one. That’s not a big deal since I merely have to trot out to the coop to shut and lock the door. Oh, but that would  just be too easy and completely without adventure, now wouldn’t it?  

Guess what greeted ol’ unsuspecting me when I, clad in shorts and no shirt (hey. It’s too warm to bother with such things) sauntered out to conduct my simple chore? There were chickens parked everywhere around the coop. Oh, great. Because the door wasn’t open, all of the other hens had to find a place to wait until we got there. *SIGH* number two.

 That meant that it was “chicken pickin’” time (I just know some of y’all will surely excuse me for that one). The ol’ chicken wrangler had to pluck each bundle of feathers from its makeshift perch and haul them into the coop one by one.

Somewhere in about the middle of this operation, and while getting ready to step across the threshold of the coop, something warm….really warm, and something smooshy….really smooshy, and something runny….really runny plopped onto my right shoulder and started to slide down my back. My lightning-fast mind knew what had happened but it took it another couple of seconds to figure out why it had happened. Looking up, when what before my two non-bloodshot-but-tired eyes should appear but a stupid chicken’s head and its big feathery rear.  Not sure that “Bullseye Ran” has a ring to it. Reckon I'll pay attention next time.

Anyway, the coop has about an 18” extension at the top which sticks out….right above the door. One of our ladies found that to be a place of refuge for the night. Swell.

I’ve been a happy camper; I’ve been an unhappy camper; there’s not much to be said about being a crappy camper. BIG *SIGH* number three.

The Ol’ Rancher truly hates sad notes. But, he can’t get around this one. This is probably the last “Chickening Report” for a goodly while. Two 125 pound Mastiffs slaughtered almost fifty of our chickens today. That included our three roosters and some of the smaller bantams and such. One of them actually tore apart one of our cages (inside the coop) and killed the young birds in there. It was rather a shock to pull into the back yard and see dead chickens all over the place.

Animal Control was called and the officer is coming from Dinuba  (65 miles from here) but is waiting for a vet to put down a horse that was hit by a car. One of the offending dogs was still in the back yard as of about 8:30PM. The other was seen a couple of hours ago trotting off with a bunch of feathers in its mouth.

Frankly, it would have been rather easy to just kill the offenders and I would have been well within the law and my rights to do so. My Ruger .22 rifle was at hand. But, that just didn’t seem to be a reasonable recourse for me. At least not for a bunch of dead chickens that can be replaced. The dogs are someone’s friends and probably their protectors (would you do a face off with a pair of Mastiffs? Not moi!). The rifle was only there to protect my little princess pooch in case they wanted to whip on her.

Thankfully, they didn’t do that. Because the yard birds were out, she was on her cable. Had the big dogs decided to be enemies, she would have had no chance at all of survival because she couldn’t run. That’s the other reason she’s off the cable at night; there are too many critters around here and I want her to have a fighting chance.

We’re going to rest awhile and cease from chicken sitting seeing that we haven’t had a real day off in more than two years. After that, we’ll see where we want to go with the Rancho Relaxo Egg gig. Most likely we’ll start out with a few hens and go from there.

I’m tired, a bit sad, and am running long on the writing. So, it’s a wrap for now.

Rancho Greeno Springo

A local pond that always captures my attention when I'm over there. Clicking on any of the pictures will enlarge them. 

This is looking north on Main from Oak during the "Iris Festival" event. You can see vendors setting up but no people because it's 8:30 AM.

"Duggins Citrus Express" band setting up for the 9:30 AM gig. This is the same location we were in last year. 

The festival sponsors supplied the sound and the stage. We supplied the noise. 









 Well! Bless my heart and all my vital organs! It’s May! Doesn’t that just chase the bats right out of your cave?! Man! April went by with only a little teeny tiny bit of it not having our footprints stomped on it! About the only time it wasn’t being trod on was during a few naps at the ranch (naps are our friends).

Spring has sprung and it’s gorgeous around these parts. Our green is still lingering and we even have a small splash of rain for a day or two to help keep it that way. However, that old summer brown is starting to creep in as usual. Still, the weather is beautiful and mild. Heck….. I may even break out a chunk of steak or a dead chicken and fire up Ol’ Smokie and celebrate a bit with a feast of some kind.

As usual, there’s at least as much do this month as was done around here in the previous month. The way things are working out, I’d guestimate that we’ll have accomplished all tasks by the year 2525 (f man is still alive, don’tcha know).

Rancho Relaxo Report: things are moving along here and, thankfully, with only a few speed bumps with which to contend. Those that do appear seem to be flattened out rather quickly and without any ensuing body rattles. Overcoming hurdles is a part of life; I just wish that I could pick and choose a few of the lower ones.

Tojo, the ranch hauler, is being repaired by our newly-wedded ace mechanic, friend, brother, and neighbor, Rudy Paine. We’re looking forward to getting to know more about our new neighbor, Lettie. We can already tell that she is such a very very special lady! She’s genuine good neighbor material and we welcome her with open arms! Rudy must have read in the Bible that, “It is not good for man to be alone”.

After the fuel pump-fuel line issue is resolved, we’ll address the catalytic converter matter in due season. I’m no expert but I think we can just whack one off of a late-model wreck-mobile and slap it on the picky-up-truck and go from there. That should represent about a 50% savings along the way. With the addition of a new right front tire (and probably the left front and right rear as well given that they are the same age as the other balloons), Tojo should once again be ready to cart stuff to the dump (which, thankfully, is only 1.5 miles from us).

In the meantime, one of our hens has taken up brooding in the passenger side floorboard. After all, it wasn’t being used for anything else, eh? She’s sitting on a dozen eggs and we’re hoping that at least some of them are fertile. There’s no reason to think that our two randy roosters have been lying down on the job so we check regularly and listen for tiny peeps coming from beneath her feathers.

Computer Report: this certainly qualifies for placement in the “interesting” department. As reported in the previous posting, the Computer Dude’s big Dell had two failed hard drives. I’ve since concluded that small 350GB drive (used for booting to another operating system) failed and took down the new drive. In fact, it appears that the overall dynamic took down the motherboard as well. That’s not good news given my adoration of the big beautiful XPS420 and its outstanding performance. After all, she’s running a quad-core CPU and 8 Giggles of Ram with Win 10 as the OS. That’s not mind boggling hardware but it certainly is a race horse and it got a lot of work done. She’ll be missed.

So, what is one to do? Well, one has to have a backup plan in place. Have I mentioned that the Computer Dude is “Joe Backup” and a good Boy Sprout and that “Be Prepared” is still his motto? Ah, yes; there was a backup plan. But, as usual, things got… interesting… in that dynamic, too.

When the ‘puter started presenting signs of failure, Ol’ Dude commenced making a backup to his 2TB external drive. That began well but the drive was failing rapidly (most hard drive failures are not catastrophic) so a full backup wasn’t completed. Yet, a lot of important stuff was safely onboard the 2TB drive. Or……was it? Nope. The big external drive somehow lost its formatting and reverted itself to an “unallocated” storage volume! Nothing could be found on an otherwise healthy drive. Almost 2 terra bytes of important stuff vanished. *SIGH*. That’s three hard drives taken down in no time. Two *SIGHS*. There is some recovery software that I will be using to see if I can salvage at least some of the data. To be sure, there will be a new backup drive onto which the recovered data, if any, will be placed.

There was a computer backup plan too. I’ve had a high performance box that has been rebuilt and was ready to go when the feathers hit the fan. It’s a sweet home run hitter with a quad-core processor and….get this…16 gigs of RAM! But, wait, neighbors! There’s more! It has a muscular video card with 1GB of RAM! Using it is like using a magic wand. Things happen instantaneously when you click on something! Whooo doggies! I can actually get more work done in less time with this big baby! The three inkjet and two laserjet printers are installed as is some of the more important software like Microsoft Office and such. Some older backups are being installed, too. Work is happening!

All the other proprietary software of the other box still has to be installed, of course, and that will take a while. But, it will carry the ball even better than before. I won’t dual boot this time, though. Instead, I will probably just park a large 4TB or even 6TB storage volume in it.  If I’m in the mood, I may just mount both since it has room for it in the chassis and two SATA controllers are avaiable. Seems a computer dude can’t have too much storage space.

Believe it or not, the little XP box came in quite handy, too. It was also hooked into the big monitor so all that needed to be done was switch inputs and it had access. It was used as much as the backup HP 23 all-in-one to get things done until now.

It was difficult to believe it was an XP machine given the performance. But, you just know that my XP box isn’t stock, eh? It boasts 2GB of RAM which is a lot for XP (which was designed to run on 64MB of RAM and with at least a 333mhz Pent II processor). However, the real punch came from the non-stock high performance video card.  It was so fast that most of the time I thought I was using a Win 7 or Win 10 box! That’s with a single core 1.8 mhz Pent 4 processor and 2 gigs of RAM!

We don’t have blisteringly fast Internet way out here in Dirty Coat Junction (the founders were really disappointed when they found out that there was already a Petticoat Junction). But, even with the 3-5 mbps speeds, the little box was a real trooper.

As a side note, as recently as three years ago, I was still working on computers that had dial-up Internet access! Our little corner of the world lags a decade or so behind the other real places. I’m surprised that we aren’t still using smoke signals, drums, and cans and strings.

Garden Update: the Ol’ Rancher used the Ranch Rino to (finally) drag the compost pile up to the garden boxes (drag scrapers are our friends). That only took three years. That was easy enough since he didn’t have to use a wheelbarrow. Once the good ground was hauled into place, the shovel work commenced.

This is the part where Maynard G. Krebbs and I agree: “WORK!” is not meant for humans to endure (at least not the back breaking sweat wrenching variety). Alas, no one could be found to rescue me from the dreaded shovel handle; the imminent strenuous use of muscles (most of which have long since retired) had pounced upon the frangible frail farmer (any tears yet, y’all?). Therefore, with shovel in hand, Ol’ Ran started heaving soil and replenishing two of his garden boxes (though, on different days, natch). That’s two down and two to go…..or two to wait until next spring. We’ll see. We’re already late getting started so we could be harvesting tomatoes in December. Who knows.

The key word is “replenished”. What it means is that the top 6” or so of soil needed to be replaced. It wasn’t like a ton of compost needed to be added to each box. That wouldn’t happen unless yours truly was the supervisor of a crew of several men or he was in the saddle of some dirt-hauling equipment (front loaders are also our friends).

Since the entire compost pile was hauled up, it had to be re-started lest I wanted to start another heap o’ decay next to the chicken coop. The temptation was there to do just that because it would have saved a lot of “WORK!” But, that, dearies, isn’t about to happen on Connie the Canner’s watch.

So, three barrels of composting material (that would be the really heavy ones) from the coop were hauled by dolly down to the original site at the far end of the property. Then, the small residue from the previous pile and some other nearby dirt was mixed in with the compost. We’ll be overhauling the coop soon (well….that’s the hope) and a lot more compost will be added in. In a couple of years, the pile should be ripe and ready.

Chickenin’ Report: our girls are hangin’ in there with the egg production. Since we started keeping them in the coop until mid-afternoon, they’ve gotten the message that they are to lay their eggs there instead of under every tarp, overhang, bush, behind or in the compost barrels, or in my pickup. Our regular customers are quite happy to see the return of such excellent eggs!

We’ve lost a few birds due to (I should think) normal attrition. Birds get old, birds get sick, birds eat things that attenuate their lifespan, and birds do stupid things and get themselves killed. Since a large supply of eggs is now a normal part of our program around here, it may be that a new batch of pullets will be brought on board as replacements. The dog and pony show must go on, eh?

Depending upon the breed and age of the bird, you can usually get pullets for about 8 bucks a bird. The last batch of laying fowls were a bit older so cost 13 dollars per beak. There were 30 of them. This time, the thought was to bring in maybe 20 pullets. Right now, there are 63 chickens including roosters so that would bring the production level up a bit so that all of our clients can be happy and not left hanging as to when they can get our great eggs.

Another thought was to get pullets but also to get a batch of “straight run” chicks. Those are unsexed and are a bit cheaper. The idea is to have meat birds that we harvest once per year. There would be a few more roosters, too. That’s good since you should have more roosters for our size flock of hens.

As great an idea as that is, it may be put on hold simply because we’re not sure if we can keep up with another project. Besides, you can get whole chickens on sale for about 89 cents per pound. And, though they certainly are processed and are not free range, you only have to wash your hands before eating them and after eating them (have I mentioned that I’m convenience oriented?).

There you have it: another episode of what’s happening at Rancho Relaxo, home of Rancho Ran, the world's foremost authority (the previous one died), Connie the Canner (world's greatest side-cook), where things can get…interesting, and where… you just never know.